find myself back at the beginning of the twentieth century. “At breakfast on that day Peter begged and implored for a sardine just as usual. But when I said, ‘What about that Pterodactyl, old chap?’ and ‘What was it like inside the Plesiosaurus, old fellow?’ he only blinked his eyes and padded with his front paws and purred as usual. Peter is a big tom-cat really, but what struck me about him that morning, after my jaunt amid Mesozoic fauna, was his ridiculously small size.” THE BILLS I Hear the postman with the bills-- Little bills! What a secret misery the sight of them instils! How they flutter, flutter, flutter In their envelopes of blue, While you open them and mutter, In a whisper or a stutter, “What the deuce am I to do?” Thinking where, where, where Is the money that shall square Every paltry, petty item, that monotonously fills Little bills, bills, bills, bills, Bills, bills, bills? Ah! those saddening little, maddening little bills! II Read the lengthy household bills-- Awful bills! Glancing at their totals grim, the brain with horror thrills. From the East and from the West How they echo one request: “A remittance must be sent Without delay.” Food and coals and clothes and rent-- It is hideous to reflect on what is meant By Quarter Day. And, enthroned amidst your cares, Impecuniosity impertinently stares. How it chills! How it kills All the future, how it fills With the haunting fear of ills, Does that pressing and distressing File of bills, bills, bills-- Those offensive, comprehensive household bills! III